Page 21 of Sexting My Bratva Boss
“I’ve already had my lawyers draft up an agreement.” I place the folder on the table. “It’s simple: you’ll act as a surrogate under my care. You’ll carry my child to term, and birth him or her. Once the child—and you—are healthy, you are out of my debt.”
Audrey stares at me, her fingers wrapped around the stem of the wine glass that the server just brought.
“You can’t be serious, Mr. Martynov.”
“Call me Konstantin.”
She scoffs, looking down at the table. “You… you want me to get pregnant. Why me? You don’t know anything about me, or my family or genetics, or…”
I watch the realization take over her face as she remembers exactlywho I am.Of course, I know all about her. I looked into her the very day I saw her on the construction site, in that mobile office.
“Come here.”
Her brows knit, and I gesture at the space beside me. When she doesn’t move, I growl again: “Come here.”
Audrey flinches, then stands, clearly embarrassed at drawing attention. A few other guests are watching passively. They know better than to show too much interest in my affairs. Audrey awkwardly moves the elegant chair to my side, and slips her curves into it once more, putting her within reach.
I lean over casually, a hand on her thigh. My fingers slowly work the fabric up her lower half as I explain: “I know enough.I know all that I need to know. And I’ve chosen you. So, your options are, either agree… or take a different kind of punishment. You’ll find, Audrey, that being close to me can be very… pleasurable.”
My fingers touch skin, and I slide my hand between her thighs, grazing her center. Her silk panties are already damp. “Good girl,” I murmur, feeling the throb of heat at the praise.
She licks her lips.
“I can bring you pleasure, but I can also bring you pain. It’s your choice.”
Sitting back, I pull my fingers away. She lets out a small gasp and clamps her legs shut tightly. The server arrives with our food—blanquette de veau for myself, sole menuière for her—and Audrey’s lips are pursed until she leaves.
When she speaks, her questions are direct, logical… and I know I have her in my snare.
She won’t say no.
She can’t.
“So, how exactly would we do this Mr. Martynov? Artificial insemination I’m assuming?”
I cut her off with a shake of my head. “No, no,malen'kiy volk.I’m a man who likes to do things therightway. To do them myself.”
My eyes drag down her body, what’s visible next to me: her curves tight against the dress, the swell of her breasts in the low-cut bodice, her ass filling the seat.
“You… you mean…”
I dip a finger into the veal sauce and raise it to her mouth. “Try it.”
She’s caught off guard, looking first at my eyes and then at the offering. Once again, she proves that she’s capable of obeying me, even with hate in her gaze.
Audrey leans forward, opens her mouth, and lets my finger ghost over her lips. She delights me by flicking her tongue out to taste the creamy sauce.
“I mean,” I whisper, leaning in and making a show of moving her hair behind her ear with my other hand, “that I plan to take you to bed, tease you until you’re begging, fill you with my seed, and hold those pretty little thighs of yours shut until it takes.”
When I pull away, her eyes are hazy with lust and confusion.
“Eat, Miss Wolfe. You can look over the contract tonight.”
My tone brooks no argument; she gives me one more glance before picking up her fork and lifting a piece of flaky, delicate fish to her lips.
Now that I know what they feel like wrapped around my finger, I’m determined to feel them wrapped around somethingelse.
My little wolf is back.